Kannufrutestoneahhappeyleef
by MorphManiac
Summary: The Real Life and Story of the Trix Rabbit
1. In which we hear a prologue

MorphManiac: This chapter has been edited. It has been remade. It has been made stronger. Faster. Better. Oh, you get the idea. I rewrote it. Yes, my penname used to be Jenny-the-Penny. But not for long.

Disclaimer: I do not own Trix, its rabbit, its yogurt, its cereal, or anything else related to it.

The Prologue

We've all heard the story of the Trix rabbit. We've seen the commercials. We've eaten the cereal. We've bought the t-shirt. And yes, maybe we've laughed a few times at the rabbit's antics. No one's really affected by it, right?

Wrong.

There was a time before the rabbit had the title "Trix" stamped onto him. There was a time before thousands, millions, billions of children cried "Silly rabbit." Yes, there was a time when the rabbit was just a cartoon rabbit with simple cartoon rabbit problems. But then he became a rabbit with complicated cartoon rabbit problems. And only after a long trial of tribulation and several tedious chapters did Trix come into play.

With this, we will delve into the complex mind of Randolph Rabbit. We will learn of his dreams…and his nightmares. And yes, we will laugh a little.

But not so anyone can hear.


	2. In which we start at the very beginning

MorphManiac: This is the edited form of chapter two. I understand it will be a little confusing for new readers who read these improved chapters, then go to "Jenny-the-Penny" chapters (which weren't as good), then go back to MorphManiac chapters. But, I have faith in you, devoted readers! You can do it!

Disclaimer: I still do not own Trix and its components. I also do not own Bugs or Lola Bunny, Elmer Fudd, Rudolf and his components, or Peter Cottontail. If I did, I probably would have some level of respect concerning their characters.

Chapter Two: "In Which We Start at the Very Beginning—A Very Good Place to Start"

On a snowy day in July, where all things seemed to be wrong and meteorologically impossible, a rabbit was born. This was no ordinary rabbit. He was a completely white rabbit with a pink nose. All the other rabbits thought he was weird because of his pink nose. At first, they thought he was a girl. They soon were proved wrong. Even though cartoon characters don't really have identifying marks, the rather deep voice and proclamation that he was a boy cleared things up pretty clearly.

The white rabbit with the pink nose lived in a barn owned by a man named Elmer Fudd. Along in this barn was a white and gray bunny named Bugs, a white and peach bunny named Lola, and a Cottontail named Peter. All of the other rabbits used to laugh and call him names, and they would never let him join in any rabbit games. This reminded Elmer so much of Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer that he named the new rabbit "Randolph." This made no sense whatsoever, except maybe to the author and a few of her friends, and it did not help the situation.

"Hey Randolph! Can you make your nose glow? Maybe Bunny Claus will come and take you away!" teased Bugs.

"Yeah!" joked Peter. "He'll take you away--to the mental asylum!"

After a time, Lola began to defend Randolph. No one deserves to be mistreated, she told Randolph. Of course, because she was the only girl rabbit on the farm, she was subject to many crushes (except by Elmer, because that's a little gross and also illegal.) Randolph, in this case, was no exception.

"Come on, y'all!" chastised Lola after one particular taunting. "Cut it out!"

"Randolph! Looks like you got yourself a girlfriend!" snarled Bugs, who suddenly became British. He also liked Lola, but covered it up as young kids do by being particularly mean to everyone else.

"Seriously, Bugs, shut up," said Lola.

"Oh, I will," said Bugs. "Soon as you go out with me! Unless you…already have a boyfriend!"

"Like I'd ever go out with you!" she scoffed. "And me and Randolph are just friends." She glared at him. "Come on, Randolph, let's go."

Bugs would have none of that. "Lola and Randolph sitting in a tree. K-I-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in a baby carriage!"

"You spelled 'kissing' wrong, Bugs."

Bugs blushed. "Who's the one in pink, now?" taunted Randolph, trying to impress Lola. She smiled at him, and they went off, leaving Peter and Bugs to their own devices. Whatever that meant.

This continued for a year or so—Bugs and Peter taunting Randolph, Lola retorting back. After a while, though, this got rather tedious, and Bugs and Peter just…stopped. Lola began to become friends with the two former bullies, but Randolph still felt uncomfortable. One day, he gathered his courage and asked her a question.

"Lola, I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?" asked Randolph. Lola winced, but soon covered it up with her sweet smile.

"Randolph, I love you, too, but more like a brother. I love hanging out with you, but not as anything more than friends." With that said, she turned and walked off. Randolph was too distraught to notice anything, but if he had been paying attention, he would have seen Bugs and Lola greet each other, and walk away holding hands.

From then on, nothing was the same. The rabbit treated Randolph as if he was no more than a wearisome chore to be completed every day.

Even Elmer seemed to treat Randolph differently. For one thing, every time he handed out leftover fruit, he would put some in Randolph's trough and then snatch it back. "Silly rabbit!" he said laughingly. "Fruit isn't for you!"

After this began, Randolph started having nightmares. One night, Randolph woke up in agony and terror. He had had another bad dream. This was the one he could never quite remember, but he knew there was something coming, something bad that would haunt him. But he would always have a little hop around that made him feel better, and then he went back to sleep.

And this is where the trouble began.


	3. In which we hear a story about Elmer

MorphManiac: Another updated chapter.

Disclaimer: I still do not own Trix and its components. I also do not Elmer Fudd. Or Canarty creams. Or Dudley Dursley. Or anything else I might have mentioned.

Chapter 3: "In Which We Hear a Story about Elmer"

Or, "The Explanation of the Corset"

Things on Elmer's farm were pretty much the same through the years that he lived there. He'd wake up, get teased, have an unfruitful breakfast while getting teased, get teased through mid-morning, have lunch (no fruit!) with teasing on the side, and on and on. Elmer treated Randolph with disdain, which he thought was kind of unfair. But, what was he going to do about it? Elmer was the boss. He couldn't question that!

One day, Elmer called him over. Now, in the past few weeks Elmer had been neglecting his Slimfast diet. As a result, well, he got rather large. Elmer had always been big, yes, but this was more…whale-ish. Think Dudley Dursley, and you'll be on the right track. Anyway, literary allusions aside, Randolph was a little surprised at the tone in Elmer's voice. It was…civil. It seemed that Elmer might give him a chance to prove himself! Excited, Randolph hopped over to him as quickly as he could.

"Okay, Wandolf," Elmer said. "Go to the stowe and get me something to make me look less fat." Randolph saluted, and headed off into town.

Randolph ran into the first clothing store he found. Of course, he discovered the interesting paradox of not being able to find someone to help you when you actually _need_ help, but at least three people will ask if they can help when the shopper really doesn't need it. Finally, Randolph caught the attention of someone.

"Excuse me…excuse me…"

The associate turned around.

"Yes, I was wondering…do you have anything that could make a person look…skinnier?"

"We do indeed. What kind of occasion are you thinking of?"

"Um…it's pretty much for everyday use."

Two hours and four pieces of clothing later, Randolph headed home. He did so very much hope that his owner would like what he got him.

Elmer was waiting for Randolph on the porch. "What you have got?" Randolph showed him.

"A CAWSET! WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A WOMAN?"

Randolph shrank back and said, "No mister owner sir! I didn't know that was a women-only piece of clothing! The person said it was slimming!"

Elmer glared at Randolph, but tried it on anyway. "You know, this really does work. Thank you, Wandolph." Elmer handed Wandolph...err, Randolph a present. "Now, go back to the bawn. I'm having a pawty tonight, and I need to clean." Randolph nodded, and hurried to the barn.

When he was sure he was alone, Randolph opened the package and gasped. It was a piece of fresh fruit! He couldn't believe his eyes. He reached for the fruit, slowly, so slowly, like he was going in slow motion. He had it in his hand. He was about to eat it when something inside of him made him want to say something profound about this piece of fruit. He thought, "No, no, eat it now!" but something else in his mind said, "Poem, profound, do it!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Ooooooooh, I love this fruit! The wonderful flavor of Cantaloupe Clash! I will eat it now!" But the rabbit was jumping around, and in jumping he had tripped and falling, dropping his fruit.

"No!" the rabbit screamed, but it was too late. The fruit had fallen into the dirt. "I can still eat it!" yelled the rabbit. Suddenly, a turtle came up and ate the fruit. The rabbit was crushed. He was very depressed. "Poor rabbit!" thought the audience.

But all the other rabbits and bunnies and children just laughed at him. "Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Later that night, at the party, Elmer ate too many canary creams and two of his buttons popped. When his guests saw that he was wearing a corset, they laughed: "Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Elmer looked around at his empty house. "I swear I will get that wabbit if it's the last thing I do."


	4. In which we hear an irrelevant story

MorphManiac: Updated!

Disclaimer: Things I don't own: Trix, Frosted Flakes, Lucky Charms, Rice Krispies, Cocoa Puffs, or any of their components. I don't know Elmer Fudd, Lola or Bugs Bunny. I don't own Lord of the Rings (there's only one little thing in here about it). I don't own _A Chorus Line._

Chapter 4: "In Which We Hear an Irrelevant Story"

Or, "The Logic Police"

There was another exciting event in Randolph's life, which lead up to the second most exciting event in his life, which in course lead up to the most important and exciting event in his life. This could be it.

Randolph ran into the forest, upset by his loss of the fruit, and wept bitterly. This continued so long that the author could not bring herself to describe it. Suffice to say, disappointment was discussed. Suddenly, he heard something. He reflected that it might not have been such a good idea to run into the forest in the middle of the night. The rustling grew louder. Randolph considered hiding or running away was probably a good idea when roughly eight beings thrust into the clearing.

"Like I was saying, they're gr—who are you?" a tiger was saying.

"Randolph," the rabbit said.

"Can we join you?" he asked.

"Sure."

The tiger, whose name was Tony, introduced his other friends.

"That's Lucky," Tony pointed at a leprechaun next to him, "And there's Sonny," a rooster waved cheerily, "And those three are Snap, Crackle, and Pop." Three rather small people Randolph assumed were brothers smiled.

"What's up?" Lucky asked, sensing that Randolph was troubled.

"I'm troubled," Randolph said.

"Would you like some cereal?" Lucky asked kindly.

"Um…sure," Randolph said, but just as he reached for the bowl, Lucky snatched it away. "Mine! My magically delicious precious!" And with that, he ran off. Everyone was quiet.

"What was that about?" Randolph asked.

Tony shrugged. "He really likes his cereal."

"So," Snap began.

"Why are you troubled?" Crackle finished.

Randolph finally told them about his horrible life, how he kept getting teased, how no one understood him, how he always wanted to eat fruit, and how Lola, who used to be nice to him, was Bugs' girlfriend.

"I'm just so mad at Bugs! He just goes around burning things and doesn't even care!"

There was silence. "Wait," Randolph said, smacking himself in the head. "I switched mediums again."

"That's okay," Snap said. "This whole story pretty much does that."

"And besides," Crackle added.

"Since when do General Mills and Kellogg's characters hang out?" Pop concluded.

"Shh!" Tony said. "You'll awake the Logic Police!"

But before Randolph could inquire about the Logic Police, the subject had been hastily changed.

"Well, it looks like you've got some cuckoo friends!" exclaimed Sonny.

"Yeah," said Randolph, "And you know what else? I keep having this dream about something I'm not supposed to fall under temptation to, something I need to avoid, but I never find out what it is!"

The beings looked at Randolph with extreme concern. Randolph was confused. "What?" he said. "What did I say?"

Pop ventured a guess. "Besides your uncanny ability to interpret your own dreams…"

"There are a few people we used to know that had dreams like that," Snap said to Randolph.

"What happened to them?" Randolph asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"They're cuckoo!" Sonny yelled, who was really starting to get on everyone's nerves.

Crackle glared at Sonny, and then turned to Randolph. "They live in a place called--"

"--Asylum for the Normal Mental Person," continued Pop.

Randolph gulped. The others looked down at their feet or otherwise named appendages. "I guess, even in the cartoon world, getting weird dreams isn't a good sign." He paused. "Did I just—"

"Yes," the rest of the crew chorused. Like they were a…chorus. Maybe a…chorus line!

"One!" Tony murmured under his breath, "singular sensation, every little step she takes."

"Two three four," Sonny joined in.

"One!" Snap cried.

"Thrilling combination, every move that she makes!" Crackle sang.

"One smile and suddenly nobody else will do!" they all chorused.

And while this strange moment could have continued, Lucky popped back and said, "You noticed that there really aren't any female cereal characters?"

"Stop! It's the Logic Police! Back to your positions!" Tony roared. And everyone went around as if nothing had happened at all.

Things could have gotten very awkward, very quickly if Randolph hadn't suddenly heard a voice:

"Randolph, where are you?"

"I have to run. I hope to see you later!" yelled Randolph, as he ran off in search of the voice.

After Randolph was gone, the characters sighed. "Man," Sonny said. "I hope we didn't throw off the plot too much."

"And how," the tiger said.

Back at the ranch…farm, Elmer saw Randolph approach. He waited until Randolph had reached him before he said, "We need to talk."

Randolph sat down beside Elmer. "Sure," he said. "What's up?"

"Randolph, I need to tell you something."

"What is it?

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Cliffhangwa."

"Oh. Well, that's kind of awkward. Why couldn't we have left with a funny crack about the Logic Police?"

"Dunno. Guess we still could."

And with that, Elmer Fudd and Randolph Rabbit both raised their fists to the sky. "DARN YOU, LOGIC POLICE!"

Randolph stared at Elmer. "You know, it wasn't very funny."

"STOP TALKING SO WE CAN FINISH THE CHAPTWA!"


	5. In which we find out what we needed to k

Morph Maniac: Finally, I'm myself again.

Disclaimer: I don't own Trix & components, Roger Rabbit & components, Elmer Fudd, ACME (not to be confused with acne), Betty Boop, or Phase Ten.

Chapter 4: "In which the Cliffhanger Is Hung"

Or, "Getting to Know You"

"Is it over? Can you tell me now?" Randolph asked anxiously.

Elmer looked around somewhat superfluously. "Yes, I can. Randolph, I received a letter today." He paused for dramatic effect. "It was from…" He paused again. Traffic flew by. A turtle crawled across the porch. A fly flew into Elmer's mouth. Randolph picked his nose.

"Yes?" Randolph said after several moments.

Elmer coughed out the dust and spider webs that had settled in his mouth. "Right," he said. "It was from your brother."

"My…brother?"

"Yes," Elmer said lazily. "Apparently you have one."

"Oh, that's nice," said Randolph.

At this point, it might be appropriate to add some backstory, explaining how the brothers were tragically separated at birth after their parents had died in a terrible accident involving Coldplay and a reenactment of _Romeo and Juliet_ in order to construct an experiment evaluating the childhood environments of developing rabbit children, but frankly this author was to lazy to write one. Although, upon reflecting the previous sentence, she figured it was all explained pretty well enough to avoid such an elaborate detail.

Elmer cleared his throat at the exposition. "Anyway…your brother would like to meet you, and basically I'm just going to give you this letter so you can read it and…see where he is."

"Why didn't he just mail it to me?" Randolph wondered aloud.

"How else would we have solved the cliffhanger?" Elmer answered…with a question.

"Good point," Randolph said. Then he read the letter. "So, I'm supposed to meet him at the entrance to Toontown?"

"Evidently. I don't read other people's mail."

"Then how did you know—"

"No more questions! Now, off to meet Roger."

"Roger? How did you know…and wait, aren't you coming with you?"

"ME? Accompany an underage bunny to an unfamiliar setting to witness a beautiful but somewhat poorly constructed reuniting between two long lost brothers?"

"You're right," Randolph agreed. "That's ridiculous."

"Damn straight," said Elmer.

Randolph gathered his meager belongings: some empty bags of fruit seed, a poster of a rather large cluster of loganberries, some clothing, and his sleeping bag. He put them all in a knapsack, and then turned to the rest of the bunnies, who were engaged in a ferocious game of Phase Ten.

"Well, I'm off," he said. No response. He tried again, a little louder. The rabbits paid him no heed. So Randolph, quiet and saddened by the un-goodbye-d-ness of it all, left the barn for good, never again to return—at least in this chapter.

Randolph waited at the tunnel anxiously. He once again checked the paper Elmer had given him: "Toontown: Straight towards the freeway, take four lefts and then stop." Four lefts? _That just turns you right back to where you started!_ Randolph thought. The night was dark. But suddenly, two lights appeared in the distance. They seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The two lights were headlights, coming from a car! Soon, the car was beside Randolph. The car door opened, slowly, oh so slowly, and then a rabbit stepped out of the car.

If Randolph hadn't known better, he would have momentarily thought they were brothers but shrugged it off as a coincidence. However, Randolph immediately saw the likenesses of Roger to himself. He had a pink nose, he was white, and his two front teeth stuck out a little further than they should have. But, unlike Randolph, Roger did not have any of the worry lines or wrinkles which Randolph had gained as scars from his bullying. In addition, as Randolph soon learned, he and his brother were complete opposite personalities.

Roger walked toward Randolph, holding his hand out, and said, "Put 'er there, buddy!" Randolph shook his hand, only to be buzzed by one of ACME's buzzers. Randolph let go quickly. The identical rabbit said, "Hey! I'm Roger Rabbit! You must be Randolph Rabbit, because you look just like me!" Obviously, their likenesses—and differences—had not been lost on this somewhat goofy rabbit.

"Yeah, that's me!" said Randolph.

Roger and Randolph drove to the Ink and Paint Club, where Roger's wife was headlining. They had a few drinks and caught up, when Randolph realized that he would need a job if he were to live in Toontown, but Roger had already thought of everything.

"You can stay with me for a week or so. Jessica doesn't mind. And I've all ready checked out the job specs, and…well…have you ever thought of working in television?"

Randolph said he hadn't.

"Well, I think you could have a career in it! We'll start with commercials, and see how you do! Why don't we go talk to those producers conveniently over there?"

To make a long story short: Randolph agreed.

Roger and Randolph went back to the corner, and, after meeting Roger's wife, talked to the producers.

To make a long story short: they agreed.

As they were leaving, Randolph spotted a very pretty 'toon cleaning up their table. She was singing something that sounded suspiciously like "boop boop be-doop." Randolph tried to play it cool, but instead he slipped on a banana peel and fell into her! He learned her name was Betty Boop. They walked home and talked all night long.

"Hey, Betty," he asked that morning (for that was her name.) "Will you marry me?

To make a long story short: they did.

Betty and he got a place, and for a sheer sliver of time in Randolph's life, he was happy.

Years later, Betty had this to comment on their marriage:

begin 

**It was fast. I mean, my life was kinda slow since cartoons went to color, and meeting Randolph was like a blur, you know? For what it's worth, it was great. I mean, we had it.**

Did you ever notice anything…off?

**You mean, did I ever know he was crazy? Not at first. I suspected, you know? I mean, sometimes he'd say stuff, and I'd get scared. But…when you look at him now, and then look at him then…I don't think any of us thought he'd be like that.**

Do you think you had any part in it? What made him that way?

**That's not fair. I had my safety to think about, too!**

You're not answering the question.

**Look, why do we have to bring that up? It's just silly. Yeah, maybe a little, I guess. But, you know, he was kinda that way when we started. So you know.**

end 


	6. In which many are surprised

MorphManiac-Hey everyone! I'm really sorry I haven't updated in so long, I've just been kind of stuck in my writing. After I post this I'll be gone for a week, come back on a Saturday, and then leave for another week. So after I post this I probably won't post again until the end of this month. Sorry for any inconveniences!  
  
R&Rs SilverMeteor: Thanks for the suggestion! It really helped!  
  
Selphie-Almasy13: Thank you also. You gave me a really good idea!  
  
The Dark Illustrator & Goth-girl: Thank you both for reviewing.  
  
MorphManiac: Keep reviewing! Every time I get one, I feel happy and I don't feel like no one likes me. No worms for me! ^_^  
  
To the fan-fic!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Trix, Betty Boop, Bruce Almighty, Finding Nemo, or Rosy O's. I do not own Rosy O's because they do not exist. The only reason I used Rosy O's is because they are based on someone I know who is...well...look at their description!  
  
***  
  
As Randolph walked onto the set of his new job, there was no word that could describe his happiness. No, it wasn't happiness. It was joy. You see, happiness is an empty emotion. You feel it for a while, and then it's gone. It's because of endorphins that keep you happy. When they are gone, there is no more happiness. Joy is a heartfelt emotion. It is joy that keeps you, shall we say, "happy" all day. This is how our rabbit friend felt.  
  
Randolph turned away, frightened to go up to his new boss and coworkers. He was uncertain about how they would treat him. He was worried how good of an actor he would be. He looked around the commercial background. "Is this really me?" he wondered. "Is this what my life holds?" His eyes fell on his wife, Betty. She smiled and waved flirtatiously at him. He smiled back, the joy of the day filling him once more. He ran up to his wife, kissed his gently, and ran up to his boss.  
  
He smiled and held out his hand. "Hello, sir!" he greeted politely. The director shook his hand and smiled back. Randolph liked him already. The director handed him the script and said in a deep voice, "Get familiar with your lines. We'll have them up on a screen for you, but you should have a vague idea of what's going on." Randolph took the script, smiled again, and sat down in a chair marked "Randolph Rabbit." He looked and the first page, which said:  
  
Rosy O's: Commercial one Character: Ronald-played by Randolph Rabbit  
  
Randolph smiled. The entire commercial was focused on him.  
  
It only took three takes to get the commercial just right. Everyone was delighted with Randolph, this being his first work in the commercial business. That afternoon he got five calls from different companies, asking him to join with them. All times Randolph refused, saying he had already signed on with Rosy O's.  
  
Randolph was in high spirits when we went to work the next day. He was going to shoot a second commercial, depending on how good the market was.  
  
"The star is here!" Randolph cried as he made his entrance to the set. But to his surprise, all the lights were off, and no one was there. Randolph had an eerie feeling as we walked to his chair. There was a note. It only had one sentence. There was no signature. It read: "Rosy O's went bankrupt."  
  
*  
  
"Bankrupt? How could it go bankrupt?" Randolph screamed to the empty stage. "Everyone loved me!" Randolph went to the director's office, where we knew he would find the crew, just playing a joke on him. It was empty, save one piece of paper on the floor. Trembling, Randolph picked it up. It read:  
  
Comments on Rosy O's "They're awful." "They make me fat." "I look like a monkey when I run or do any activity." "They taste like spinach and cottage cheese mixed together and put in milk." "I'm never eating this again." "I'm going to tell my friends not to eat it."  
  
Randolph dropped the paper. It drifted slowly to the floor. Then he ran out.  
  
***  
  
MorphManiac: Poor rabbit. I'll update in two weeks when I get back! Please R&R!  
  
(I'm sorry I haven't updated my other story. I have writer's block on it.)  
  
"I will call him Squishy and he will be mine, and he will be my squishy."  
  
"Look, I'm gonna go touch the butt!"  
  
"Smite me, Almighty Smiter!" 


	7. In which Randolph gets in trouble

Morph Maniac: Sorry I haven't written in forever, but hopefully I should be able to update better now. Onward!  
  
***  
  
Randolph raced out of the studio. People smiled at each other as they met on the sidewalk. Children skipped, played games, and laughed with each other. No toon or human noticed a rabbit in distress. "Why can people be so happy on a day a company goes out of business?" Randolph wondered angrily. "Doesn't anyone care?" Randolph looked around again, and what he saw surprised him. All along the streets he saw poverty, going out of business sales, and abandoned stores that held shelter for families lacking certain "resources." All had been invisible to him until now and even then he noticed they were still invisible to others.  
  
Randolph slowly trudged along home, not stopping for anyone or anything. Then it started to rain.  
  
"Get outta the way, you lazy bum!" said a man hanging out of his car window while Randolph crossed the crosswalk during a "Don't Walk" signal. Randolph muttered an apology and continued on. More cars honked at him, but Randolph didn't pay attention. There was only one thing on his mind: Bankrupt.  
  
*  
  
Randolph walked into the Loony Bin Bar. A foul smell of smoke and beer filled his senses, and he turned to go right then, but the need for something strong was too much. Randolph sat down before then bartender. "A pint of the strongest stuff ya got."  
  
The bartender looked concernedly into the rabbit's eyes. "Bad day?" he asked as he prepared the drink.  
  
"The worst," Randolph answered. "The studio I worked for went bankrupt, and I don't have anything to fall back on."  
  
The bartender shrugged as he handed Randolph the drink. He downed the glass in one gulp.  
  
The worried bartender's eyes got big and he gaped at the skinny rabbit. His brow furrowed when Randolph asked for more, but he filled his glass. Randolph took small sips now, and began to talk to the bartender. "I worked for Rosy O's," he said. The bartender winced. "I didn't have to try the stuff, but the people hated it, and so now I'm out of work and money."  
  
"Didn't you have any savings?" inquired the bartender.  
  
"It was my first job. I married right out of the farm. We didn't have any money to begin with." Randolph hiccuped. The world had gotten strangely lopsided. "Those rotten money-stealers offered me $100 dollars to the hour, and I was supposed to be paid today." Randolph cursed his former boss in slurred tones as he emptied the rest of the drink. "Hit me again," Randolph commanded.  
  
"I think you've had enough-"  
  
"HIT ME!" screamed Randolph, grabbing the man by the collar and lifting him up. The bar was suddenly quiet. The bartender was slowly let down. Randolph walked out of the bar without paying.  
  
*  
  
Randolph walked in a trance up the stairs to his apartment. Teenagers ran hurriedly past, trying to make their curfew. Randolph glanced at the clock. 1:00? How long had he aimlessly wandered the miserable streets? He had to be home! He ran into Room 423. Betty was sitting at the kitchen table in a pink robe and slippers with her hair in curlers doing a crossword puzzle. She looked up when Randolph walked in and smiled. "Hey, Baby-Boo! Did you have a hard day? Come sit down, I'll make you some tea." Randolph opened his mouth in protest but sat down anyway. Betty sat in his lap while she let the water boil. "What happed?" Betty asked as she kissed him gently. Randolph stared into Betty's beautiful eyes; how could he tell her? How could he break her caring heart? But he must tell her!  
  
"Ah," said a voice inside his head, "if you tell her, she won't love you anymore!"  
  
"Randolph," said another voice, "she will find out anyway! Tell her the truth now, and she won't be as mad as she would if you don't tell her!" Randolph was so confused he decided to ask her.  
  
"Honey, do you really want to know?" asked Randolph. Betty looked inquiringly at her husband.  
  
"Well, baby, I suppose so."  
  
Randolph sighed. "Alright honey, I tell you. Rosy O's...it...oh," Randolph faltered. Betty patted him on the back.  
  
"There, there, it's okay."  
  
Randolph looked at her again, tears streaming silently down his cheeks. "Rosy O's went bankrupt."  
  
Betty gasped. The color drained away from her face. And then-  
  
-she fainted.  
  
***  
  
Morph Maniac: See you later! Please review, or I won't write another chapter for a while! 


	8. In which the world turns upside down

Thank you all for the lovely reviews. They really keep me going! I am trying to be more patient about getting reviews, but it really helps when I know that someone is reading my stuff. So, without further ado, here comes chapter 9!  
  
***  
  
Randolph caught Betty before she hit the floor. He carefully and quickly picked her up and lay her on the bed. He got a cold washcloth and laid it on her forehead, then called his brother.  
  
"Hello?" said a voice through the receiver.  
  
"Roger, this is Randolph. I told Betty that Rosy O's went bankrupt and she just fainted."  
  
"We're on our way."  
  
*  
  
Randolph met up with Roger and his wife outside his apartment door. Roger's wife went first to revive Betty, leaving the twins alone and worried. "What am I going to do?" Randolph asked Roger, his voice shaking.  
  
"I suppose," Roger said seriously and slowly, "that you could live with us until you can find another job."  
  
"Not that, it's just that-"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, everything seems to happen to me. I'm afraid I'll never make it in life."  
  
Roger stood in silence for a while. "You will make it, you just wait. You've hit a snag, that's all. One day everything will come out right."  
  
"I hope you're right, bud. I really do."  
  
*  
  
Betty had revived and requested to speak alone with Randolph. He sat shakily as Betty told him she didn't love him anymore.  
  
Randolph nodded silently as tears welled up in his eyes.  
  
"It's not you," said Betty, seeing his sadness, "it's just that, I feel that I was rushed into this relationship. I really never felt that I loved you."  
  
Randolph looked up at her, anger brewing inside of him. He stood quickly and slapped her. She fell to the ground. There was dead silence in the room. He could see tears in her eyes. He stared at his hand with disbelief, and he stumbled out of the room.  
  
***  
  
Please R&R! I don't know when I'll get a chance to update again! 


	9. In which things take a lighter note

I disclaim you! I disclaim you!

Chapter Nine: "In Which Things Take a Lighter Note"

Or, "Woodshop Class"

Randolph stayed at Roger's house while the divorce was made final. There were good things and bad things about this move, as there are good things and bad things in all life situations. On the good side, the divorce was solved quickly, as there are few human/rabbit marriages and the lawyer was not particularly busy. Betty, while she no longer loved Randolph, was still kind and sympathetic, so she gave Randolph twenty-five percent of all the money they had in their account (most of which was hers.) She gave Randolph his things back, halved their wedding presents, yet still kicked him out of the apartment. On the flip side, Randolph was very depressed all the time and couldn't ever have any fun. Roger once tried to get him to go to the circus, but it turned out Betty had gone with two of her friends, and Randolph was miserable the whole time. It also turned out that Randolph had really bad luck, because everywhere he went Betty was there, and her lawyer filed a restraining order; a true curse to Randolph.

He was at the kitchen table with Roger. They were alone, eating ice cream, of all things. Randolph was his normal depressed self-even more so as Roger had eaten the last of the fruit-ice sherbet and left him with chocolate mint. He picked at his ice cream, but finally spoke.

"Roger?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Roger answered with a question mark.

"Why do bad things always happen to me? I'm so tired of being on this roller coaster of life. Right now, I think my roller coaster is broken."

"Well Randolph, I'll tell you what I think.

"Bad things happen to good people when they lose sight of their goal. You've been happy before, and you're just in a slump now. You need to get back to your goal. Only then can you be happy."

"But what's my goal?"

"Let me put it this way: Let's say some big guy doesn't like you and sticks you in a hutch. The hutch is like your slump, right?" Randolph nodded. "So you're sitting in the hutch, wondering what to do, suddenly a key appears in the hutch. You take the key and unlock the hutch."

"So, the key is your gift, and that's the only way to get out of the slump?"

"No. The moral is always carry a hatchet with you so you can turn the hutch into toothpicks." Quickly he added, "But whatever works for you."

Randolph paused. "You had some bad experiences with wood shop in school, didn't you?"

Roger nodded, then shuddered violently.

Randolph thought. What had made him happy? Thinking back to his childhood back at the ranch, he remembered vivid colors engulfing the barn, and the joy he had felt. He smiled. He knew what he had to do.

In our series of interviews, Roger was another helpful subject:

begin

What was your first impression of Randolph?

**I remember thinking, "I've got an older brother!" But then I realized he just looked older 'cause of the wrinkles. And worrying! He used to worry about everything. I always wondered why he couldn't just step back. It's really not that hard. Just…relax.**

What effects did the divorce have on Randolph?

**Well, he loved Betty, that was for sure. Like I love my Jessy-poo. And I know how crazy I went when I heard she might be patty-cakin' with someone else. It broke my heart! And I felt for Randolph, because that coulda been _me_, you know?**

But it wasn't.

**No. I was lucky, I guess. That was another thing, too. Randolph had the worst, the worst luck. I have bad luck, but Randolph was a whole other world of bad luck. Really really…bad. Would have drove me insane, too.**

But it didn't.

**No. But it would have.**

end


	10. In which Randolph is shown to not have a

(Disclaimer: I, MorphManiac, do not own the Trix Rabbit. DDGG and JAHS do not exist. These names are a product of my own imagination. Any relation to anyone, fiction or not, is completely coincidental. Although, I do apologize for your business/school having such a crappy name.)

Randolph stared in wonder at the big, brick building. This, he thought, is the answer to all my problems.

The sign above the building read as follows: "John Anthony High School."

Now, no one knows why Randolph thought of this or how it came to be that school would answer all his problems (in fact, school usually causes more problems than can be reckoned with). Scientists long after "the incident" have said that it had to do with Randolph's childhood. For some reason the author has withheld, this particular tale was not included in the original telling of his young life, but now many details have been made clear that could make this telling possible.

According to popular belief, Randolph was a pyromaniac. He always used to light candles late at night when everyone was sleeping, and he was always the one who added more wood to the fire when it was already blazing high. One day, Randolph went too far and set the barn on fire. The whole trial was blamed on a nearby radish, and all was forgotten. However, Randolph never forgot his pyromania, although it might have been pushed aside when his obsession with fruit began.

This brings the scientists to their next point: Randolph most likely decided to go to human school, where children took science, since where there is science there is normally . . .

. . .fire!

And therefore Randolph decided to go to school.

Understand? Good. Explain it to me.

Randolph, for he was a fairly smart rabbit when he wasn't obsessing, knew that he couldn't go to school looking like he did, since it was common knowledge among humans that cartoon rabbits didn't exist in the real life world, much less talked and went to school. Therefore, Randolph decided to implore an inexpensive costume shop for his options.

"Now," he thought, "I shall go into that inexpensive costume shop, Doodle's Disguises for Grinchy Guises, and buy something . . .inexpensive!" Needless to say, Randolph was somewhat repetitive. To prevent this story from doing the same, let us just quickly jump to the next scene.

"Hello, welcome to Doodle's Disguises for Grinch Guises, I'm Trudy, may I be of service?"

"Yes, you may!" Randolph answered. "I'm looking for some human clothes. I'd like to go to school."

Trudy had seen some weird things in her days at DDGG, but this was by far the weirdest. Who would want to go to school if they didn't have to? However, Trudy, not wishing to blow a sale, held her tongue and showed Randolph the latest fashions.

"It's called Velcro," she explained. "It rips right off. No more spending time to button buttons! Just pull it on, and SHAZAM! You're ready for some learning."

"I'll take the lot!" Randolph cried, and walked out of the shop victorious.

"TOMORROW," he cried to the street, "I GO TO SCHOOL!"

And while the street ignored him (as did the people on it), Randolph knew that tomorrow would be a brand new day. (A/N: That's how things happen in the world. Tomorrows become new days. Todays become yesterdays. Tomorrow never comes. Yes, it seems that Randolph would not exactly be starting on the right foot. Read on, noble and loyal reader!)

***

(A/N 2: Well, that wasn't exactly more to read, was there? I'm thinking this will be done soon, maybe four more chapters and I'll be able to wrap it up. I'll be working on more of these older fics, to try to leave room for my "summer project." That will either be an original screenplay on fictionpress.com, or a Harry Potter fanfic. iAgain.i Maybe I'll get it right this time!)

(A/N 3: Please review!)


	11. In which the story is delayed

[I, MorphManiac, do not own Trix Rabbit or its affiliates. The following chapter is completely fictional and pointless.]

Randolph awoke the next morning to a bright and early day. He went to eat breakfast, but as usual, his toast and jam was eaten by Earl, the chipmunk. He therefore decided to skip breakfast and move on to getting dressed.

He pulled on his Velcro pants, shirt, shoes, socks, and hat very quickly, viewing himself in the mirror. "I FEEL GOOD! Dananana...I KNEW THAT I WOULD!" he sang, a bit off-key. "I FEEL...hey wait...who's Earl, the chipmunk? And since when do I get to eat breakfast?"

Suddenly, through the plaster roof of his apartment, and blue fairy descended and proceeded to bop Randolph on the head.

"WHAT THE CRAP WAS THAT FOR?!" Randolph exclaimed, rubbing his head.

"Little Bunny Foo Foo, I don't want to see you scooping up the field mice and bopping them on the head. I'll-"the fairy stopped abruptly, staring at Randolph with a hint of confusion. "Um...you aren't Little Bunny Foo Foo, are you?"

Randolph shook his head, but immediately found this was a bad idea, as his head hurt like yo mama's pancakes. "No. I'm Randolph."

"OH!" the Blue Fairy (her name to be forever capitalized) said with recognition. "You're the Velcro rabbit who wanted to know who Earl the squirrel was, correct?"

And somewhere, very far away, a band came up with a hilarious parody of "Goodbye Earl" from the Dixie Chicks, that until now was very underground.

"Chipmunk. Earl the chipmunk."

"Yes, that's what I said. Anyway, the purpose of Earl the chipmunk is to make the readers of this story laugh, and is not very important to the plot at all. In fact, many readers did not even see the sentence with 'Earl the chipmunk' in it, and therefore have been very confused this whole time. This actually makes this story about a page longer than it needs to be."

"Can we get on with the story now?" Randolph cried to his plaster-ceiling-with-a-hole-in-it.

**_"Yes,"_** the lovely and talented MorphManiac roared. **_"I think that's a right dandy idea."_**

The Blue Fairy disappeared, as did the hole in the ceiling, and Randolph had a senior moment and temporarily forget what he was thinking about.

Will Randolph ever remember what he was talking about?

Does the Blue Fairy find Little Bunny Foo Foo and successfully prevent him from bopping field mice on the cranium?

Will MorphManiac ever get the story on the way instead of stalling for time?

Find out, and review!


	12. In which Randolph remembers

[I, MorphManiac, do not own Trix Rabbit or its affiliates. The following chapter is completely fictional. Although, if a white rabbit comes to your school dressed as a child begging for fruit, I would suggest getting a valid CAT scan.]

Randolph remembered.

"I must go to school!" he cried, and soon ran out the door. This followed running back into his apartment, because he had forgotten his supplies.

And, as the writer was about to go to the movie _Paparazzi_ and didn't have a lot of time to write the following chapter, we will just skip to school.

Randolph walked into John Anthony High School with a feeling of pride.

"Hello, fellow classmates!" he yelled at the campus. Preps giggled, skaters continued skating and smoking oxygen, geeks discovered an alternative universe, jocks bulged muscles, and everyone else stared.

Randolph, however, was immune to this, because after this lovely statement he saw something just lovely.

_Cereal_, he thought. _Fruity Cereal_.

He walked, cool as you please, to the lunch ladies handing out the aforementioned cereal. He politely asked for some.

"Do you have any money, sweetie?" one of the lunch ladies (who was a man ) asked.

Randolph swallowed. "No..."

"Well, do you know your social security number? We can charge it to your account."

Randolph stated the last six digits of the number, and proceeded to be handed some cereal. He danced for joy. Finally, in all his years of waiting, he had obtained the fruit!"

Then someone pantsed him.

There was a gasp, and a silence. As we all know, cartoon characters don't seem to have...well...you know. And by taking off his pants, everyone saw that he didn't have...you know. Then, the rest of his Velcro outfit fell off.

"It's a rabbit!" a girl screamed.

The lunch lady-man grabbed the cereal. "Silly rabbit! Fruity Cereal isn't for you!"

"They get me every time," Randolph said sadly.

REVIEW! ONLY THREE MORE CHAPPIES LEFT TO WRITE!


	13. In which Randolph dreams

((MorphManiac: Whoop de dee! Shfifty-five! Hiya everyone. I'm in the great town of (name withheld), and I'm about to go to a football game! () ...That _kinda_ looks like a football. Almost. Anyway, I decided that since I'm visiting in this great city, I'd write on a foreign computer and give you all a taste of Randolph! (not that he tastes _all_ that great.) (Not that I've actually tasted him.) So, sit back, relax, and get ready for this chapter!))

((Disclaimer: yadda yadda, don't own it. Actually, there really isn't a copyright infringement in this chapter, although some of you may notice some allusion to _A Beautiful Mind_.))

((Note: This chapter is one of the reasons it's PG-13. You've been forewarned.))

* * *

Randolph's plan had been foiled. It seemed like yet another incident of fruit had stopped him from achieving happiness. What was it about fruit, anyway? _Why is it so great?_ Randolph asked himself. _I bet it tastes like poo._

After this mind-boggling statement, he quickly fell asleep, right where he was. Almost as if his life was written by a fifteen-year-old girl with nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon. And then, instead of actually writing all the things that happened in-between him talking to himself and falling asleep, the writer got lazy and these activities were hurriedly squandered. But, of course, that's nonsense.

* * *

_Randolph was at the farm again. It was a lovely farm, really. It had a nice red barn, green grass, and the stereotypical white picket fense._

_ Something was wrong, though. Something wrong with that all-too-white fense. Like it was spelled wrong and therefore became inhuman._

_The fense began to change. It became bigger, and meaner, and scarier, and whiter, and then-  
_

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Randolph screamed. He was having the white picket fense dream all-too-often. He kept trying to discover what it was trying to say to him, but every attempt was erroneous.

And he didn't even know what erroneous meant.

He got up and walked around. He always did this after having the fense dream. It gave his sheets time to dry. From the _sweating_. The _sweating_.

Anyway, he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He tried to drink it, but his hands shook so much that he just drenched himself and dropped the glass. It shattered on the tile floor.

Randolph froze. He carefully, carefully, bent over, trying not to step on any of the sharp glass, when he came to an amazing realization. The pieces of glass seemed to light up in his mind, and rearranged themselves upon the floor. They were mathematically and scientifically accurate, and it seemed as if his brain was solving a highly complex puzzle. When the show of lights was finished, he jumped onto the counter and looked at the glass from above.

An eerie ringing sound was heard in Randolph's ears as he read the words: _Not for you, silly rabbit_.

Randolph screamed as the glass turned upon him and shot up like a bullet. He was being cut at every turn, and whenever a glass piece would successfully pummel through him, it would turn around and do it again. He was dying, Randolph knew, and he knew this was the end.

Randolph woke with a start. There was no screaming this time, but the ringing noise would not go away. He sat up, shakily. He gazed at his arms-nothing wrong. It seemed that the glass, too, had been a dream. Randolph, remembering the dream, became nauseous and ran to the bathroom.

He hadn't noticed the steady trickle of blood down his leg.

* * *

((A/N: That was kind of scary, huh? Well, this fic _is_ PG-13, and this chapter is one of the reasons why. Sorry if you're scarred for life.

Oh, and another thing! I've decided to make this fic longer than I was going to. At first the goal was 15 chapters, but then things didn't get finished like I thought they would. So, yay? Maybe. Tell me in your review, which I know you were just about to do!))


	14. In which Randolph encounters 3 cameos

Morphie: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I finally get a break from school! I was going to write yesterday, but the muses were helping my mom clean the house. Hopefully, they're back now and I can try to write something as good as these past chapters.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. If I did, I would have given the Trix rabbit his cereal back in 1980 when they started those stupid commercials. Cameos I don't own: _The Ring_, "The Brady Bunch," and _James and the Giant Peach._

_

* * *

Randolph…Randolph…Randolph…silly rabbit…fruit…kids…_

Randolph found himself hunched over the Porcelain King, at whose feet he had spent the night. The argillaceous god had aided him in storing the contents of his stomach, but it had yet to solve the problems of his life.

Heh…Heh heh…that wasn't funny, Randolph, get off the stinkin' john!

Heeding the words of his mind/conscience/invisible friend, Randolph heaved himself off the toilet and into the shower. After drowning his sorrows for a good twenty minutes, he turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and headed to the kitch-

The living room! He was headed to the living room! Not the kitch..en…

Randolph flipped on the TV using his all-powerful mind and remote. Immediately, through an unauthorized showing of nightmare-like images and pictures, the phone rang, informing Randolph that he had seven days…until…something. The little girl on the phone (he hoped she was a little girl, and not the King of Pop) and simply said, "Seven days." This could mean anything from "Seven days until you die" or "Seven days until your eviction notice." He guessed it was the latter and quickly took care of _that._

"Thank you, mysterious girl!" Randolph cried, and quickly copied the video and showed it to everyone in his apartment, so they too could share in the glory of the "lucky" video.

Now that he had finished this, he headed to the kitch-

The door! He went to the door! He fancied a walk in the park! He wasn't even thinking of going to the kitchen! He grabbed a trench coat, hat, and shoes, hoped he looked like a man, and went out the door.

Randolph walked in the park and pondered all the things park-walkers ponder. _Why am I here? What am I supposed to be doing? What will I eat for lunch? How long will the bird poo take to wash off? Do you think that dog thinks I'm a rabbit?_

Suddenly, he saw a show that was very similar to "The Brady Bunch" and decided to watch it live.

_"That Dave Johnny is_ so_ delicious,"_ Randolph thought to himself, regardless that Dave Johnny was a human and male.

When the show similar to "The Brady Bunch" was over, Dave Johnny entered the stage to shrieks and screams of girls (and Randolph.)

"WE LOVE YOU DAVE JOHNNY!!!" the girls screamed, and when Dave Johnny winked in their direction, worlds in outer space came to an end.

"Hello everybody!" sang Dave Johnny (he might as WELL have sang it, with that voice.) "In honor of the opening of this new movie, we will be giving away _one. Giant. Peach!!!"_

Screams again. Randolph's mouth dropped to the floor. _YES!!!_

"Now, all you have to do is answer this one question. Any volunteers?"

Randolph raised his hand, along with countless others.

"Yes, you, the one with the non-suspicious looking trench coat and hat!"

Randolph leapt up to the stage.

"And here is your question! What is the most popular asylum in Toon Town?"

_I know this one! _"Asylum for the Normal Mental Person, Dave!"

"You are correct! Here's the peach!" And with that, Dave Johnny mysteriously disappeared.

Randolph had the peach (which was not that giant) in hand. He raised it to his mouth--

--and all of Dave Johnny's fan girls jumped on him and ate it before Randolph could even blink.

"$##$!" Randolph cursed. "!$#$&& &$$###&$##&!!"

"Dude," said a fan girl. "Maybe you should, like, go to a psychiatrist."

So that's exactly what Randolph did.

He went to the nearest phone book, and looked up the most successful toon psychiatrist in town. There was only one.

Doctor Shatner, Ph. D.

"Tomorrow, I WILL GO!" cried Randolph.

"Dude, you don't have to, like, scream," the fan girl muttered.

* * *

Morphie: REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! Reviews give me the inspiration for more chapters. So more reviews, more chapters. And that means more happy readers! SO REVIEW! NOW! I welcome constructive critism!  



	15. In which Randolph therapizes

Author note: I have been planning this chapter ever since I decided to make this story longer (about twice as long, hopefully.) I'm so excited--this chapter is a checkpoint in this story. After this chapter, you will start to see the Trix Company rise, Randolph's many attempts at many things, and coconuts. That's right, coconuts. See how they all stand in a row? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed preparing it!

Special thanks: Everyone who reviewed and/or added me to their favorites list! I really appreciate it! Remember, reviews make the rockin' world go round!

Disclaimer: For the fifteenth bloody time! I don't own Trix! There are 21 cameos appearing in this chapter. I do not directly violate any copyright laws, but just for the record, I don't own any of them. You may be able to find the references. Have fun!

* * *

Randolph opened the door to Dr. Shatner's office. The waiting room was filled with month-old magazines, pamphlets on depression and other disorders, and old furniture that seemed to be bought from a landfill. Randolph was alone in the waiting room except for a family of six, five assorted pieces of jewelry, four chickens, three turkeys, two birds, one tree, and the receptionist, who handed him multiple forms to fill out. Three hours passed, and Randolph had just finished up the last of the patient forms, which asked him a series of difficult questions, many of which were not applicable to male rabbits. Finally, Dr. Shatner called him in. 

"Randolph _Rab_bit. Please. Come _in,_" the doctor called in a halted speech pattern.

Randolph got up and followed him into a room lit by four lamps and no overhead light. Randolph sat down across from Dr. Shatner on a worn but comfortable couch. Dr. Shatner took the recliner.

"Now, Randolph. What seems. To be the problem?" Dr. Shatner asked.

"Well, doctor, I've been experiencing some problems with obsession."

"Obsession?" the doctor asked.

"Yes, obsession. I have this thing about fruit. I think it's because I didn't have any as a young rabbit."

"That seems. _Odd_, that you are still. Alive," commented the doctor.

"Is that because you believe rabbits eat only fruits and vegetables?"

"…I thought. It _was_ true."

"Well, it mostly is. What many people aren't aware of, however, is that rabbits also enjoy marshmallows and beans."

The doctor looked confused. "Aren't beans…_vegetables_?"

Randolph was exasperated. "They're legumes."

"I don't. Know what you _mean._ Randolph."

"Never mind," Randolph said, sighing.

"Well," said the doctor. "I think. The _best_ solution. At this time, is to. _Hypnotize_ you."

"Hypnotize me?"

"Yes. That _would._ Take care. _Of_ your obsession."

"Golly Moses, alright."

"Now. _Look_ at. This _pocket watch._"

Randolph did, and soon he was in a daze.

Randolph…can you hear…me?

"Mehsyea," Randolph mumbled, which here means 'yes, sir, I most certainly can.'

_Good…now…delve…into…your _mind…_In doing so, you will…_find_ a solution…to your…_obsession.

Randolph so delved, and he dreamed a dream that defied all dreams.

* * *

Randolph was flying over a large city. He heard a series of whistles that continued as he viewed different parts of the city: he saw a bridge, a highway, a large body of water, a gym, and a playground. When he came to the playground, he panned closer and closer until he found 

A GROUP OF BOYS SITTING BY A FENCE.

The boys were snapping in perfect unison, which was a little odd. They continued to snap…and snap…until it all got quite boring to watch, if not tedious. Suddenly, the scene before him began to move forward in fast motion. When the scene came to a stop, Randolph discovered he was not queasy. Instead of focusing on this extremely fortunate event, he attuned himself to the girl walking down a street, singing. Randolph caught a few snatches of the song.

_Randolph_

_I just met a guy named Randolph_

_And suddenly that name_

_will never be the same to me…_

_What is this_, Randolph thought, _some kind of warped musical?_ He turned around and walked out the very convenient door.

The door led to a hallway tagged with names and titles. He walked into a door to his right and then decided to use the doorknob.

Randolph found himself atop a large mechanical city that was floating in the clouds. There was a large tunnel about a foot in front of him that was so deep Randolph couldn't see the bottom. He looked down to learn he was wearing some sort of tunic-like costume, which seemed futuristic and historical all at the same time. In his belt he found a flashlight, which turned out to be a long glowing sword-like object. He had so much fun swinging it around that he accidentally cut off his right arm.

"Dag, yo," Randolph exclaimed. Then he heard something.

"Randolph…Randolph…"

"What?" Randolph answered.

"Randolph…join me…" said the mysterious voice.

Now, Randolph had seen his fair share of English assignments and knew when a mysterious voice told you to join his or her entity, you better say no.

"NEVER!" Randolph said.

"But you must learn the power of the fruit side…" said the voice.

"The fruit side?" Randolph asked. "But isn't that—"

"The same side your uncle's second cousin three times removed on his mother's side wanted you to join!"

"No!" Randolph amazed himself by shouting. "You murdered my uncle's second cousin three times removed on his mother's side!"

"No, Randolph," the mysterious voice countered, mysteriously coming out of the mysterious closet. "I _am_ your uncle's second cousin three times removed on his mother's side!"

"NOOOOO!" Randolph yelled. And he decided to jump in the tunnel. Which was rather stupid, if you ask me.

Randolph fell and fell until he went SPLAT on the bottom of the bottomless tunnel. He died.

(If you believed that for a second, you obviously are among the millions of movie-goers who go to movies wondering, "Hmm, I wonder if the protagonist Bruce Willis is going to die with an hour-and-a-half left in the movie?"

You also obviously haven't been reading very many author notes, because I just said that I hoped to write many more chapters after this.

And I even said the tunnel was bottomless. Come on, guys.

I think, for the sake of your stupidity, I should just stop this chapter right here and let you do that assignment you've been putting off. You know which one I'm talking about.

That would be incredibly mean, though.)

Randolph fell and fell and fell. It was almost quite boring, because he was falling in dark and into a bottomless pit, which, as you know, has no bottom. Randolph was about to stop the chapter right there until he realized that he had completely stopped falling. He fumbled around with his sword/flashlight until he hit the button to turn it on. Upon turning on the sword-light he detected a door, which he then went through.

Randolph tumbled back into the hallway. He continued to go through door after door, encountering many events of an unfortunate series, including dinosaurs, rolling boulders, dental work, chocolate, duels, robots, time travel, a power-hungry piece of jewelry, aliens, wars, and dialogue. Finally, he reached the door at the end of the hallway, where he proceeded to attempt to open.

The doorknob yelped. "Ouch! That's smart!"

"Oh goodness," said Randy-Pandy. "I didn't know doorknobs could talk."

"Doorknobs don't talk, silly," talked the doorknob, "they tell jokes!

"For example: Knock, knock."

"Who's there?" asked Randolph.

"Amish."

"Amish who?"

"That's funny," chuckled the doorknob, "you don't look like a shoe!"

Randolph-the-shoe said, "That's really not humorous at all."

"All right, here's another one: Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Atch!"

"Atch who?"

"Bless you!"

Randolph stared at the doorknob for several moments. "Could I go back, now?"

"Back?" said the doorknob. "What do you mean, back? You're already there!"

Randolph looked through the keyhole to find that, sure enough, he was lying on the couch with Dr. Shatner standing over him.

"Well, that's anti-climatic," mumbled Randolph. "I thought there would at least be a fight scene."

* * *

Randolph woke up on Dr. Shatner's couch. The doctor was standing over him, which was a little bit alarming, to say the least. 

"Well," said Dr. Shatner. "Did you. _Learn_ anything?"

Randolph launched into a long frightening story that did not resemble anything aforementioned in this chapter.

"Now, now, Randolph. That's not true at all. I know exactly what happened in your dream, and what you describe was nothing like it. You really like to embellish things, don't you? I just can't imagine how you can get this amazing exaggerating story out of a cliché of a dream. You are a complete drama queen, Randolph."

Randolph paused. "Sir…uh…what happened to the halted speech pattern?"

Dr. Shatner stared at Randolph like he didn't know what he meant. "I don't. Know what you _mean._ Randolph."

The Shatner began to write a prescription. "This should. _Help_ you. With your. _Histrionic_ nature." He handed the prescription to Randolph.

"Spock treatment? What's that, sir?"

But before Dr. Shatner could answer, a cow fell through the roof and killed him.

"Go away, you silly English pig-dogs!" cried an unseen man with an outrageous French accent.

"Run away!" Randolph cried, and with that he fled the seen, clutching the prescription in his hand.


	16. Up and Down the Produce Aisle

((A/N: School's out, which explains why I'm finally updating. Now this story is alive and well, and I am sure I won't write myself into a corner like I did at the end of chapter fifteen. We have entered a new era in this fic, hence signified by the changing of the form of chapter titles. I am eternally grateful to Silver Meteor, for getting this story back on track and writing almost all of the first part of this chapter. This sixteenth chapter is dedicated to her!))

((A/N 2: I'm thinking of going back and editing parts of this fic after I'm done, so it will make more sense. All in favor?))

FOR THE RECORD: I do not own the Trix Rabbit, Veggie Tales, Star Trek, Monty Python, "One Week" by Barenaked Ladies, smish, James Bond, or Dr. Lecter. Will all these things actually be in this chapter? Maybe. Will there be more copyright infringements that I didn't catch? Definitely.

* * *

It all made perfect sense. While some people might be severely confused if they witnessed their psychologist smished by a cow (not to mention that smish wasn't actually a word), for Randolph it was perfectly clear. 

And in that sense, he had the right to be terrified right about now.

For it occurred to Randolph, a cow falling from above could be no accident. Therefore, it was murder. And why murder Bill Shatner, humble psychologist? Because he wasn't a psychologist, that's why. He wasn't even the closely related but not entirely the same psychiatrist. Yes. There was only one possible reason that Shatner would need to be assassinated, and that reason was:

William Shatner was a superbly secretive servicing secret super spy.

He was killed to stop him from his mission.

Oh, the alliteration!

And did Randolph know what that mission was? Of course he did. You don't spend your entire life as a rabbit and not learn a few things. Especially about alliteration.

Shatner must have been trying to relay an important secret message to Randolph. Randolph didn't know what the message was about or why Shatner chose him, but surely the prescription that Shatner left with him as the merciless cow turned him into a spy pancake held the key.

But this left Randolph in a very dangerous situation. Who know what important secrets the message held? And if the French knew that Randolph had been present at the murder of Shatner (as he was sure they did—with great power came great outrageous French accents), they would come after him to shut him up. Permanently. As in, for good. As in, no longer talking. They were going to kill him, okay?

Randolph knew his only hope was to retrieve the message. After all, he owed it to Shatner, didn't he? Where would he be now, without Shatner's kind psychological help? That strange super spy really helped him. Or would have helped him, had Randolph been able to come to his sessions a little longer. Probably.

Randolph hugged his large trench coat to himself, and titled his large green fedora hat so that it obscured his face a little more. _Rest in peace, my dear...psychologist. I will not fail you, Double-0-Shatner._

_

* * *

_  
Randolph made his conspicuous way to the pharmacy counter, to meet his fate.

An-ray-olph-day walked into a large supermarket pharmacy. Those supermarket pharmacies that really are not…_real _pharmacies. More like…general brand pharmacies. Oh, you know what I mean.

Anyway, one bunny walked into a bar…err, I mean, Randolph walked into the pharmacy, certain that Shatner's message would soon be revealed. He handed the nondescript pharmacist his prescription, and waited.

The pharmacist squinted at the paper, took out his glasses and squinted some more. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "darn doctor's handwriting." He got a young wipper-snapper to read it for him. Finally, the pharmacist handed him a bottle of pills.

"Here you go, sonny. 42 milligrams of Spork treatment."

Now, Randolph was sure that wasn't right.

"Um," he said uneasily, "I don't think it's Spork treatment."

"No?" said the pharmacist. "You don't think it's Spork treatment? Oh oh oh. Well. Obviously _we're_ wrong. There's no way the prescrib_er_ or the prescrib_ee_ could be responsible, right? Well, let's just try again." Randolph really couldn't tell if the pharmacist was joking or not, so he just twisted his face into a half-smile, half-frown. The pharmacist took this as some kind of insult. Just because the ill-disguised bunny needed Spork treatment didn't give him the right to go grimacing at people. Especially at a supermarket pharmacist.

Huffily, the pharmacist got another young person to decipher the encoded prescription that may or may not have been written by a chicken. Since the only chicken doctor in the world was Chinese and tended to go by the ever alliterating "Chickity China, the Chinese Chicken," the pharmacist had a feeling that the doctor who wrote the prescription was not a chicken, but an impersonator. Like this rabbit fellow. And so, as the story was brought full circle, and as the author spent three minutes on another meaningless paragraph, the pharmacist—who would eventually need a name, but would never receive one—finally brought out another bottle of pills.

"90 milligrams of Pock treatment. Guaranteed to cure all sweet teeth."

Randolph looked uncomfortable again. "Um..."

The pharmacist snatched the bottle back and grabbed another.

"Sock treatment."

"Uh…"

The pharmacist seized pill bottle after pill bottle, and proceeded to throw them at Randolph, who tried to fend them off with little success.

"Ock treatment."

"No…"

"Squat treatment."

"I don't think so…"

"Scock treatment."

"Uh…"

"Pig treatment."

"What? That doesn't relatively sound like—"

"Spock treatment."

"No…I mean—"

The pharmacist assumed the rabbit was going to say, "I mean, why in the world are you throwing these bottles at me, kind sir?" Nothing in the world upset the pharmacist—who had yet to be given a name—more than being called 'kind sir.' He proceeded to rapidly throw more prescriptions at him. You know what happens when you assume.

"Take that, you loggerheaded—"

"Wait! I want—"

"Patronizing—"

"Please! Stop—"

"Booger-smishing—"

"Hey!"

"IMBECILE!" the pharmacist screamed, turning the counter over onto Randolph. This was actually a large feat, considering the counter had previously been bolted to the floor.

"AHHHH!" the pharmacist yelled, proceeding to run out of the room, declaring he really didn't want to be a pharmacist, he wanted to be a—

Well, never mind. I'm sure you already know.

* * *

"Ugh…" Randolph said groggily. "Ughhitty ugh…" 

"Yes?" said a very clear voice, with a very familiar accent.

"Ugh…ugh…where am I?"

"You are in the produce section of a large supermarket. What is your name?"

"Randolph…Randolph Rabbit."

"Hello, Randolph."

"Hello. I think I will call you…" Randolph paused, not actually knowing the person's name.

"Dr. Lecter—that seems most appropriate to your age and station."

"Station?" Randolph said, trying to remember where he had heard that same phrase before.

"Randolph, I want you to sit up." So, Randolph did.

He was, indeed, in the produce section of a large supermarket. Currently, he was sitting between a tomato counter and a cucumber counter. The two counters were arguing amongst each other, calling each other Bob and Larry. Randolph dismissed this as a result of his lack of Spock treatment, and forgot about it.

"How are you doing, Randolph?" asked the doctor, idly preparing something that looked much like a tetanus shot (except more sinister) and swabbing Randolph's arm.

"Um…fine…uh…what are you doing?"

The doctor suddenly stopped and looked at the syringe in his hand, and quickly put it away. "Nothing, Randolph."

"So," Randolph said, looking for a subject change. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, I need to pick up some fava beans and a big Amarone. I'm having an old friend for dinner. We're eating liver tonight."

"Hmm…" said Randolph, not really listening.

"Do you dream often, Randolph? I think of you often."

"What?"

"Nothing, Randolph."

Randolph sat there for a moment on the sticky tile floor. Finally, he stood up.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Doctor Lecter." Randolph held out his hand to shake, but the doctor did not meet it. Instead, he looked at Bob and Larry.

"Simplicity," Dr. Lecter murmured, and placed something next to Bob. He left without a word.

Randolph made his way over to the tomato section. Next to Bob was a prescription bottle labeled "Spock treatment—88 mg." Slowly, Randolph grabbed it.

"Hold it, mister. You don't want to take that!" squealed Larry.

"Larry's right," agreed Bob.

"Wha-?" said Randolph, looking between the tomato, the cucumber, and the bottle. "This is my medicine."

"Taking things from strangers can hurt you!" the tomato continued.

"Yeah!" Larry squeaked.

"Listen, this is _mine._ My medicine. I need it!" Randolph yelled. Several other shoppers looked on curiously.

"Remember kids," said the tomato, "don't take things from strangers like this guy. God wants you to be safe!"

"Yeah!" chimed Larry.

"Wait a minute…are you a tomato?" Randolph asked the red, plump, juicy tomato.

"Why, yes. Why do you ask?" said Bob.

"Well…tomatoes are…fruit, right?"

Bob paled, as much as a tomato could pale, and started screaming.

"RED ALERT! RED ALERT! PYSCHO RABBIT IN THE PRODUCE AISLE!"

"Drat," Randolph said, as butchers in white coats dragged him to the doors. "Foiled again."

((A/N 3: RE-VIEW! RE-VIEW! RE-cough cough…Yeah. Push that button!))


	17. I Am So Blue I Do Not Know What to Do

((Author note: I was planning to write this chapter immediately after posting the previous chapter, as soon as I got some reviews into my system. (Not that I eat your reviews, or anything.) But, alas, there were no reviews for the last chapter. Silver Meteor, mrs. shigwa. cobain, Lucifina…WHERE ARE YOU GUYS?))

((This chapter is not very long. I tried. I am sorry.))

((Disclaimer: I do not own Trix, its rabbit, Chinese food, Gushers, Tex-Mex, or stink bombs.))

* * *

Chapter Seventeen: I'm So Blue, I Don't Know What to Do 

Randolph sat in his kitchen, eating leftover Chinese food.

Randolph _hated_ leftover Chinese food.

It was not so much that he hated Chinese food itself—although the fact that it _was_ leftover made it somewhat unappealing—but the fact that the food contained absolutely no fruit. None whatsoever.

So, you can see that Randolph was less than pleased with his meal.

After the…_incident_ in the shopping mall, the fruit members of the produce section, primarily the tomatoes, brought up Randolph on charges of harassment and malicious intent. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court. In a stunning and emotional case, persuaded by one very blue blueberry, the judges ruled in the fruit's favor, and made Randolph pay the fruit as a whole a sum of $624. What the fruit did with the money is still a mystery today.

It seemed that this was not enough. The case was publicized more than a certain pop singer's trial, so Randolph was firstly humiliated and secondly hungry. Every supermarket in America banned Randolph from their stores for a period of six months. Randolph spent this time searching for gas stations that acted like supermarkets—those gas stations that sell laundry detergent, toilet paper, and other such items that leave other customers wondering about a gas station that sold a packet of paper towels for the unreasonable price of $15. Anyway…after this time, Randolph could go into their stores, but not within 100 feet of the fruit section. Sometimes, the supermarket forgot what time it was, so they would not let him in anyway, leaving Randolph to his fruitless leftover takeout Chinese food.

Randolph threw away the cold remains of his dinner. He set about cleaning the kitchen, leaving himself to his thoughts.

How Randolph yearned for the finer things in life…pineapple pizza…Gushers…fruity cereal. If only some magical person, a _deus ex machina_, per se, would come and save him from his misery.

Randolph cleared his throat. "If only _someone_," he yelled, "would come _save me_ from my _misery_!"

"I can save you from your misery," called his neighbor Dex. "You know what rhymes with _Dex_?"

Randolph's mouth opened in horror.

"TEX-MEX!" yelled Dex. "Why, what were _you_ thinking?"

"Uh…um…" Randolph stuttered. "Um...er…Lex?"

"Well, that rhymes with Dex, I guess," Dex concluded through the wall. Meaning he was on the other side of the wall, not coming through it.

"So…er…" said Randolph. "Er…why Tex-Mex?"

"I dunno…always makes me feel better," Dex said. "Except for later in the day, you know…you know?"

"Oh…it _that_ what that smell is?"

"No! I work in a stink bomb factory!" shouted Dex. He was rather insecure about it. "_Silly rabbit_," he murmured.

Randolph was left feeling strange. And not because of Tex-Mex.

"Can anyone else save me from my misery?" he called.

There was a knock at the door. Randolph opened it, and gasped.

"Hello, Randolph," said the last person Randolph would ever expect to see, but who everyone in the audience knew would come back sooner or later, it was just a matter of time for the lazy author to bring the character back in the story to finally make sense of the entire story.

"Hello, Randolph," the character repeated, just for dramatic effect, and also to end the chapter in a nice, short sentence, instead of the long paragraph that followed the character's opening line.

"Hello, Randolph," the character repeated again, because the author realized that in explaining and dissecting every little sentence, the story was just becoming more monotonous.

"Hello, Ran-"

"I FREAKIN' HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!"

* * *

((Please review. Please.)) 


	18. Have We Got a Show for You

A/N: I've been gone for a long time, I know. AP English requires a lot of writing, so most of my time is spent there. I also was a stage manager for our fall show, and now I'm a fairy in _A Midsummer Night's Dream_. So, I'm quite busy! But here it is, without further ado.

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't really want to.

* * *

Chapter Something-or-Other "Have We Got a Show for You!"

(Or, "How the Author Finally Got on With It")

When we last left our story, Randolph opened the door to a nameless fear, a person he definitely had not expected to ever see again. It was, of course, Lola, from chapter two. And at the risk of using too many commas heretofore, the author will stop dawdling and get on with it.

"Lola!" Randolph said at last.

"Yes," she said, a little relieved Randolph had remembered. "May I come in?"

"Oh, yes," Randolph said, standing to one side. "Make yourself at home."

There was a lot of dawdling on each of the rabbits' parts, partly because Lola was reluctant to reveal why she came, and partly because Randolph suffered from some form of ADD, so that whenever Lola would mosey over to the topic, Randolph would suddenly declare, "Did you see that new movie on ABC Family? It was splendid!" But, since the author was rather lazy because she was on holiday and had not written an English essay since the Thursday before school dismissed, she decided to skip all that hullabaloo and, once again, get on with it.

"Randolph," Lola began, "there's a reason a came tonight besides the—er—joy of your company. After you left for Toon Town, I got an agent. I'm an actress now." She paused. "Anyway, I was talking with my—um—_agent_, and he mentioned a job in a commercial. And, well, when I heard of it, I immediately thought of you. Have you ever been in a commercial?" Lola asked.

Randolph recalled his brief experience with Rosy O's. "Yeah, one or two."

Lola smiled that Lola smile with which Randolph had fallen in love when they were younger. He wondered fleetingly whether she was seeing anyone but stopped when he remembered the author was trying to get on with it.

"Perfect!" she said, still smiling the smile that had sidetracked the author earlier. "Here's all the information about the company. I took the liberty of setting up an appointment with the director. I've filled out your resume, arranged for a cab, and hired a personal assistant who will wake you up tomorrow and take you to hair and make-up. You want to look your best! Oh, and your personal assistant has all ready been notified to all your needs and can answer any questions you have."

Randolph stared in astonishment. "You are amazing, Lola."

She smiled. "I know."

And without much dawdling, she set off. Randolph watched her until she turned the corner, then bolted his door. He sighed. He loved her, he decided. Maybe more than he had ever loved Betty. Picking up the information, he sighed again. He supposed he could try to do another commercial, especially since Lola had asked him to. What, really, could go wrong? Maybe she would see him, in all his commercial glory, and she would realize her feelings for him. After all, she must really care about him; why else would she go through all that trouble to help him?

* * *

As Lola turned the corner, she sighed. It was rather infuriating and frustrating talking to Randolph. It was obvious the way he felt about her…but there was something deeper, as well. Something that had changed in him over the years. She noticed the way he spoke—panicked, and as if he had not spoken to anyone in days. And his eyes kept darting about, as if watching for some hardship. She sighed again entered the stairwell, quickly flying down the stairs to level six, room six. She knocked twice, paused, then knocked three times. The door opened to her, and she darted in.

"Is it done, then?" the man said, standing to help her out of her coat.

"Yes. He was completely swept away," she said, sinking in an armchair.

"Does he suspect?" he asked. He began rubbing her shoulders. She groaned as he pressed into the knots in her back.

"No," she said. She smiled softly and slipped her wedding band back onto her finger.

"Good," he said.

"Bugs, are you sure this will work? What if he messes it up?"

"It will work," the bunny said as the author finally revealed his identity. "It must. We owe it to our client."

Lola did not answer. Instead they sat in silence for a moment.

"I'm going to get some food," she finally said.

"Okay," Bugs replied. "But get on with it. We have our own…business to take care of." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and then the two accomplices laughed together.

* * *

A/N 2: So, Randolph gets an interview for another commercial, and Bugs and Lola pay their taxes together. (Yes, pay their taxes. What did you think they were about to do?) What kinds of things are Bugs and Lola planning? Who is their client? Is their intent good, or otherwise? Find out, when I finally get around to writing the next chapter. Reviews give me self-esteem. I need self-esteem to write the next chapter. So what can we conclude about reviews? 


	19. And It Felt Weird

A/N: Let's just skip the excuses about why I haven't updated.

Disclaimer: The government owns everything. What it doesn't own belongs to my cat. And I don't even have a cat.

Chapter Nineteen (I think): "And It Felt Weird"  
Or  
"When the Author Decided to Forgo Sanity"

Randolph heard to a very loud knocking on the door. He was in that state of mind between dreaming and wakefulness, and so he didn't quite register the knocking until it got louder. And louder. And louder. With a start, Randolph realized that it must be his personal assistant, whom he (and, no doubt, the readers) had forgotten about. He jumped up, grabbed a robe, and stumbled his way to the door. The personal assistant was banging quite explosively on the door, and Randolph was nearly positive it almost splintered off.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he called, trying to untangle himself from the cord of his telephone. What was his telephone doing with a cord, anyway? Were they even made like that anymore? I remember my grandmother once had a phone like that, and I liked to twist my finger in the cord until there was no more finger left to twist. But then she moved out of her house into one of those retirement homes that aren't nursing homes but more like apartments that only old people can live in, and then if you get sick they'll take care of you, but if you get really sick they send you to a nursing home.

While the readers might have felt that this was an unnecessary tangent, the author pointedly reminded them that she was forgoing all attempts at sanity, and therefore the tangent was somewhat justified. Even if it might not be coherent.

Anyway, the unmerciless pounding of the door ensued. Finally, Randolph wrenched it open to reveal a very harassed-looking badger. The door, which was not only harassed-looking but actually harassed, jumped off its hinges and went in search of a better life. It eventually joined a door-harassment support group, which included many doors from different fan-fictions who had, in turn, been harassed. This door, henceforth known as Paul, was very touched by the confessions of a door from a Harry Potter fan-fiction, especially when it described the numerous Reductos and Diffindos it was forced to endure. The author, once again, pointed to the alternate chapter title.

Not at all fazed by the abrupt departure of the door, the badger looked grumpily at Randolph, because everyone knows that badgers are not morning people. "Took you long enough. Are you going to let me in?" he asked.

"Of course, of course. This way," Randolph acquiesced, leading him into the kitchen. The badger took two pastries out of his pocket and popped them in the toaster. Then he opened his briefcase.

"My name is James Badger," the personal assistant said. "I was asked to assist you by Lola. Here is your outfit for the interview. After you put that on and eat breakfast, we can be on our way." He handed the clothing to Randolph.

"Thanks," Randolph said, minding his manners. Because of his southern upbringing on the farm, he had been ingrained with a sense of propriety. Say please and thank you. Say yes ma'am, no ma'am, yes sir, no sir. Wash your hands before you eat. Don't ask embarrassing questions. Don't be rude. This is actually not a rare thing, but it never ceased to surprise Randolph the kind of response he got from people in different areas of the country simply for saying please and thank you. He had once said thank you to a waitress when she brought back a refill of coke, who in turn gave him a strange look, like she hadn't expected politeness. By the time the author had finished her ramblings, Randolph had put on his suit and tie and devoured his toast.

James led Randolph to a taxi and rode with him downtown.

"Where are we going?" Randolph asked James.

"We're going to Studio Lot 130. I'll take you to hair and makeup, then you'll audition, then you'll have an interview with the director of the company. We'll break for lunch, and then the rest of the day depends on you."

Randolph gulped. "Me?"

"Yes, you. On whether or not you get the job."

Randolph began to feel nervous. Not only was this a chance at the big time, it could be his last chance to get a job anywhere in show biz. After a few failures, people stop hiring. Although, the same rule didn't seem to apply to Nicholas Cage. Not to say that Nicholas Cage was a terrible actor, but Randolph had seen some of those movies he'd been in. _Lord of War_? More like…something witty and full of puns that Randolph could not think of at the moment but would just as soon as everyone forgot what we was talking about, just to make it awkward.

The taxi pulled up to a large production center, and James and Randolph clamored out. In a daze, Randolph was led to hair and makeup, where he sneezed all in the powder, covering everything in a fine white dust, and finally going into the studio. James said he'd wait for him outside and wished him good luck. After he left, Randolph was very aware of the badger's absence. He was the only one in very dark black box. Spooky. Black boxes are actually pretty comfortable, but I guess if there weren't any lights on it would be a big deal. In youth theatre I had to practice in a black box, which was fun but you end up getting black all over your shoes, the bottoms of your feet, your elbows and knees, all kinds of places. Like paint. Paint gets everywhere to. How did paint get on my upper thigh when I'm wearing jeans? It's crazy, I'm telling you. Much like this whole paragraph.

Randolph cautiously walked through the studio. His steps echoed against the empty walls. The silence pounded in his ears. Just when he felt the place was too creepy to continue walking through, he was blinded by a sudden spotlight at the other end of the room. After the spots in front of his eyes cleared, he gazed upon the illuminated object.

It was fruit.

And not only fruit, but an interesting kind of fruity cereal that he had never witnessed before. He began to run as fast as his white scrawny legs would take him, his only concern getting to the fruit at the other side of the room.

As he ran, he began to see interesting shapes. Colorful, wild, intensifying shapes. And, unbidden, he heard his own voice: "Raspberry red, orangey orange, lemony yellow, grapity purple, wildberry blue, watermelon!" Needless to say, it was strange. And it felt weird.

He raced, and raced, and raced, until he was inches from the cereal. He could almost taste it.

At the last split-second, something happened. To this day, no one knows what inspired this strange phenomenon. There was no premeditation. It simply…happened. At the very last moment, right before Randolph reached the Trix, a girl and a boy appeared and snatched it away. "Silly rabbit!" the kids said. "Trix are for kids!" The significance of the words, and the history behind the, reverberated in the studio. Randolph went numb. Then, the lights went on.

"Brilliant!" called a very loud voice. It was Raj Eroshi, a rising new director in the Toon Town ranks. "You'll be perfect!"

Randolph couldn't figure out how to work his mouth. Which is a pretty scary thing, if you ask me. Suddenly, he remembered. "Huh?"

Yeah, it's not eloquent. At least his mouth works.

"You, Mr. Rabbit, are perfect for the role in my commercial!" Raj Eroshi cried again, firmly shaking Randolph's hand. "My name his Raj Eroshi," he said, as if Randolph needed to be reminded. "Will you take the role?"

Somewhat irrationally and rashly, Randolph cried, "Of course!"

Raj Eroshi took Randolph to his office. Randolph signed a contract, which guaranteed his employment for at least one year, provided the company did not go under or lose money in any way.

When Randolph went out to meet James, he was elated. "I got it!" he said. James gave a very rare grin. "Great! Now, let's go to lunch, and then we'll come back and shoot that commercial!"

Randolph walked along the sidewalk to meet the cab. Just before he got in, something dawned on him. "Lord of _Snore_!" he said, chuckling to himself.

"Huh?" James said.

Randolph glanced at James, then back at the studio. "Oh, nothing," he said. "I just made the decision to forgo all attempts at sanity today." And with a nod at James, he climbed in the taxi.

A/N: Raj Eroshi is an anagram of Joe Harris, who came up with the "Trix are for kids!" slogan. This should be finished in one chapter, as there are no more surprises. Or are there? After that, I will probably go back and edit the earlier chapters, especially the prologue. Please review!


	20. Up to My Ears in Bitter Tears

A/N: Well, here it is. If you haven't, you might want to read through some of the earlier chapters. Things have been changed. Namely, chapters 1-5 and 10. It'll make more sense.

I want to thank all of you who have stuck with this story for all this time. For all intents and purposes, this was my first fanfiction…my first real fanfiction. It will be hard to leave it, and you may still find me mucking around with the chapters and such. But, for now, this is how it stands. Again, thanks so much for your advice, comments, and support.

Disclaimer: I do not own Trix. I am not hereby making any profit of any kind.

Chapter 20: "Up to My Ears in Bitter Tears"

Or "Perhaps the Last One"

The next few years progressed. Randolph made his living working on Trix commercials. He headed to the studio on every morning except Sundays, filmed some new footage, and left. He got a week off every month. He had money again for food and for living. He moved out of his shabby apartment and into a condo. He soon had everything he needed, and more.

During these years, Randolph spiraled into a more obsessive, unhealthy life. He refused to go to Dr. Shatner, who had changed his name to Dr. Hypnosis for obvious reasons, and ate as much fruit as he could get his hands on. Even the counter clerks at the grocery store from which he had once been banned could be bribed.

But never, ever could he once get Trix. Part of his agreement with the company clearly prohibited him from ever purchasing the cereal, so to make the commercials "more realistic." No amount of money would waiver this deal, for any offense of this contract could void his employment. And Randolph liked being employed.

So he ate. And ate. He became reclusive, not opening the door for his personal assistant, for his brother Roger, and not even for his ex-wife Betty.

He would, however, open it for Lola. This scene took place on a Thursday during one of his weeks off sixteen years after he was hired.

"Randolph?" she called, knocking on the door. "It's me, Lola."

Randolph's ears perked up. They were long ears. Long enough to tie in a knot, to tie in a bow, and to throw them over his shoulders like a continental soldier. "Lola!" He put down his bag of frozen strawberries and hurried to let her in.

Randolph was in a state. He hadn't shaved all week, and his fur had become a dull gray. His pink nose looked irritated. What scared Lola most, though, were his eyes.

"They were wild," she said many years later. "Like a madman's."

Lola entered Randolph's condo with some hesitation. Yes, she had agreed to this visit only at the request of her employer. But to risk life and limb by coming into and maybe—just a little—flirting with this psychopath? Even Lola had doubts. But Bugs was clear: Lola was the only one he responded to. It was her job to determine his condition, and if it was okay to proceed.

Lola looked at the mess of fruit everywhere, then again at Randolph's eyes. Yes, the plan would continue.

No one to this day knows what was said in that private meeting. Randolph was in no state to relate it, and Lola cannot be found to this day. But something about that day changed both of them. And not for the better.

That next week when he came back to work, looking a little scruffy but in much better condition than the previous Thursday. "Today," Raj Eroshi said, "we're doing something a little different."

The commercial started off like any other commercial. Randolph saw the kids with the cereal. He put together an elaborate scheme to get it, involving a dog, some smog, and a little assonance. But this time, when he reached ever-longingly for the Trix, something happened. In the split-second that the kids were supposed to pop up and seize the cereal back, they were nowhere to be found. So Randolph, uninhibited, grabbed the Trix. Silence fell over the studio. Then Randolph looked up. "I guess Trix isn't just for kids."

Then, he ate the cereal. Every last bite.

To say that Randolph was elated would be an understatement. One would have to use such euphemisms to describe it as "over the moon," "in seventh heaven," or "on cloud nine" to describe his utterly euphoric state. Randolph had a wide smile on his face, one that disappeared after a few days. In retrospect, it might have been better for Randolph not to have eaten it at all. The whole "can't miss what you never had" thing. Randolph had built this moment up so much over the long sixteen years that, when it finally came, it was like a "loss of the creature." Randolph had turned around to see the light, but it had blinded him.

(Somewhere far away, the author's English teacher was feeling a great sense of purpose. But, that story is for another day.)

Randolph slipped into a deeper, more serious depression than the last time. He became fanatical about Trix. He bought all the merchandise, ate only fruit, and even attempted to make the stuff—an effort which was fruitless.

(And then, the author's English teacher groaned in misery. This is the last interruption, I promise.)

Four years later, Randolph got the Trix again. Since then, the producers have vowed never to let it happen again. "Truthfully, we're a little afraid of what he might do," Eroshi said in a statement to the press. One reporter followed up: "What about if he _doesn't_ get the Trix? What will happen then?" Eroshi had no answer.

Years passed. Randolph no longer had any concept of time. He was cursed. He had forgotten his own name. His mutterings became incoherent. His life was bent upon Trix. All of this, of course, is hidden from the public. Any new information is discovered at great personal cost to the one searching for it. Try to research his life, his beginnings, and you will find that it has all become a charade. A façade. What remains behind the curtain is only darkness.

The following is the last transcript of all the interviews conducted by this researcher. All those who gave any information have now slipped from existence, or simply disappeared. I have held on to these and constructed them as best I can, with the promise that they would be released only after it would not incriminate anyone. Now that all those involved cannot be found, I circulate them now. If any justice, any truth, any freedom can be found, it might be here.

It took me years to track him down. The man whose sole purpose in life was to ruin another's. I do not have to say his name. You already know him.

begin 

Do you wish to remain anonymous?

**Yes.**

Why?

**The things I have done—the things I still do. Besides…after you release it, it will no longer matter.**

What happened to the speech impediment?

**I can suppress it, for a little while, so as not to arouse suspicion to my identity.**

I guess the question really is this—why?

**I don't have to ask you what that means. I know. I have been asking that question of myself for sixty years. What was it about Randolph—about the Trix Rabbit—that made it so hard for me…He didn't do anything to me. I mean, one little embarrassing moment isn't enough to ask for a lifetime of misery. Besides, I treated him badly before that. I know people will say I didn't get enough love at home, enough love in my childhood. And, it's not that. I grew up in a wonderful home. Maybe…I guess it was after that. I mean, no one was a big fan of—of me. It's this constant image I had, that was put upon me. There wasn't anything I could do to break it. But that sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I mean, if that were the case, I would have tortured Bugs instead. But I couldn't have done that—it wouldn't have turned out the same. No, it wouldn't have.**

Did you take out your frustrations with Bugs on Randolph?

**No. Maybe. I guess so. Logically, yeah, that would have been it. But it isn't logical. This whole thing…I don't know.**

**I'm done. I have nothing more to say.**

Are you sure?

**Of course, I'm sure. What's done is done. I can't change it by saying anymore.**

Then why did you agree to this interview?

**I…I don't know.**

end 

Randolph Rabbit, known more popularly as the Trix Rabbit, died in 2000. He had worked in Trix for over forty years. Nowadays, the rabbit you see on television is dead. No one quite knows the cause of death. Heart attack? Suicide? Insanity? It is another question we add to the mystery: the mystery of the Trix Rabbit.

The end is what you make it.


End file.
